


Where You and I Meet

by perverbially



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Outdoor Sex, Secret Relationship, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perverbially/pseuds/perverbially
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...there is silence for a while as they eat, a comfortable, warm sort of quiet he associates solely with these nights spent beside her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You and I Meet

**Author's Note:**

> I just got a little bit enamoured by the idea of Ling and Lan Fan as grown ups who are still never happier than when they're sitting on a roof together, stuffing their faces. (and also doing it.)
> 
> Title from Lykki Li's "Melodies and Desires" (www.youtube.com/watch?v=WMHL1Eqrq6k) which is beautiful and reminds me of Lingfan in some way I can't really figure out.
> 
> Thank you so much to pelviscostello, who as always doesn't let shit slide <3

"Lan Fan?"

A beat's silence. Then a hand, metal white in the moonlight. He takes it gratefully, and - not really needing the support, but wanting it all the same - climbs lightly up on to the sill, looking up into the painted face above him.

"Room for one more?"

She doesn't answer, but tugs at his hand, and he lets his body follow, throwing out his free hand to grip the tiles. She doesn't let go of him until he's up on the roof, crouching beside her.

"You look weary, young lord."

He shrugs, offering her a smile that he hopes tells her not to worry. "The head of the Hua clan didn't leave until half an hour ago. He's not very pleased with my plans for the rail-road."

"I could tell," Lan Fan replies, uncharacteristically nonchalant. Her lips twist into a scowl as he starts to chuckle.

"Are you sure you should be sitting in on all these dry political meetings? Swordmaster Lao says you've destroyed three separate training dummies this week."

"Where else would I go?" she points out hotly, then bites her lip, apparently trying to regain her composure. "I... am there to protect you, my lord. There is nowhere else I would rather be."

"Really?" he takes her hand, raising an exaggerated eyebrow. Her gaze follows his to the little cove of jasmine they both know so well: the rooftop garden. "There's somewhere I would rather be."

Lan Fan doesn't have to say anything to that; the disapproving tilt of her head makes her feelings all too clear. He almost bursts out laughing, only managing to hold back because he knows that would get him even more trouble. "All right, I don't mean that... but I do miss it. Being up here with you."

"You're here now, young lord."

"I am," he agrees, quiet but happy. "Come sit with me, Lan Fan?"

"All right," she says, and beneath her mask he sees the beginnings of a tiny smile tugging at her lips. His own answering grin is automatic, easy, and near enough impossible to control, so he doesn't try - just lets her lead him across the roof, impossibly light steps retracing a journey they've made many nights before. 

"Oh, Lan Fan, you beautiful creature," he exclaims when he sees it, the blanket set down among the blooms, laden with treats from the kitchens. Her finger springs to his lips, her own pursing into a little _shh_ of warning. 

"Sorry," he whispers, as they settle down opposite each other. A series of delicious scents hit his nose as she starts to open up the packages. "How did you know?"

"They don't provide proper food at those meetings," she says, ripping the cover off a little tray of stew with deft fingers and pushing it into his hands. "It makes _me_ hungry just watching you pick at those silly little party favours."

He nods in vigorous agreement, diving in appreciatively. "I mean, not that they aren't nice," he admits, through a sticky-sweet mouthful, "but they're so _small_. And when they're gone, they don't bring more, can you believe it? I nearly got into a fight with Lord Hua's deputy over the last pastry earlier. I'm serious, Lan Fan, he was going to have it, imperial displeasure be damned."

"I saw, my lord" she says, chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of stew. She smiles a little, surprising him. "I also saw that you were perfectly capable of handling it yourself."

"Yes," Ling agrees, grinning. "In my defence, it's hard to see where one's elbows are jabbing when you're wearing that thing. His plate just got caught in the crossfire."

"As did the pastry," Lan Fan remarks, dark eyes aglow with amusement. "That was a good catch, my lord."

Ling pauses, chopsticks loaded with beef inches from his mouth. He furrows his brow in mock concern. "Oh no, do you think he noticed?"

"You left a trail of crumbs down the front of your robes."

His grin turns wolfish, and he throws back the mouthful of stew, quickly returning for another. "Nothing gets past you, does it, Lan Fan?"

Lan Fan looks down, and he can tell she's blushing, just from the tinges of colour that creep at the corners of her mouth. He's struck with a sudden desire to push the mask back off her face and feel that heat under his fingers, but instead contents himself with devouring the rest of his stew and starting on a dish of rice. There is silence for a while as they eat, a comfortable, warm sort of quiet he associates solely with these nights spent beside her. 

It's only when he's finally full that he cares to move, leaning back on his hands to look out, beyond the canopy of moonlit flowers, into the night. The city stretches out before them, all glittering lights and black streets. 

"Lan Fan?" he says softly, and she turns to him from where she kneels, a question in her eyes. He holds out a hand to her. "Sit with me?"

"I'm already sitting with you, my lord," she replies, but she takes his hand and lets him tug her closer; doesn't stiffen or shy away even when he's pressing her body so close into the space beneath his arm that he can feel the heat on the back of her neck. She takes the initiative in removing her mask this time, and he doesn't let himself move until she's completed the action, placing it tenderly against the basket of cleared plates. 

"The Chang princess sent me a telegram," he says, when she's still, snuggled against him. She looks up at him, curious. "It was sort of impertinent, actually. She told me off for toying with your heart."

Lan Fan stiffens, and he quickly realises he's said the wrong thing. "It was in code, don't worry. She understands the situation."

A muscle in her jaw twitches, eyes blazing. "Nevertheless, if it were to get into the wrong hands - "

"There was nothing that could lead back to you, Lan Fan. I promise," he says, giving her shoulders a squeeze, hoping against hope that she won't take flight this time. "She's a smart girl. She's just... concerned, I think."

"Or she's trying to get me killed," Lan Fan muses grouchily, although he senses the climb-down in her tone, the little bit of give that says her fears have been allayed just enough to be comfortable. Still, she folds her arms over her chest so forcefully Ling has to tilt his head backwards to avoid the blades of her automail. 

"I don't think so," he says, maybe a little too lightly. "You know... she and Alphonse have been seeing a lot of each other lately. I've actually had several concerned citizens telling me I should put a stop to it." He grins at the thought. "You can imagine what May thinks of that."

Lan Fan hums, a small, non-committal sound against his chest. He closes his eyes, dropping his head against her hair. He can't tell whether it's the flowers or her, but the scent of jasmine swells, sweet and warm, until he's nearly dizzy. 

"I wish we didn't have to hide," he mumbles against her. "I wish I could show everyone." She twists against him, now, raising her chin so that their mouths are nearly touching. It seems to shock even her, but something in him (or someone, maybe) tells him not to stop, urges him to force the words out, and he puts his hand to her cheek, keeping her eyes on him. "After everything... it doesn't seem fair. Everyone should know what you've done for Xing."

The heat in her face rises, and he feels it now, her body's reaction to him beneath his fingers. She freezes, swallowing hard, a battle raging in her eyes. And then, after a silence so complete he starts to feel a little silly, she finally responds.

"I don't want everyone to know."

It's like she melts, almost, a terrifying moment where he thinks he's lost her, that she's slipped from his grasp once and for all; but then her lips meets his, hard and sweet. She rises up against him, and his hands move to pull her on to his lap.

"If it's only ever you..." she says, so softly that if it wasn't against his lips he might have missed it, "...that's all I want, young lord." 

Ling almost protests, wanting to tell her how much more she deserves; how everyone should see her and know what she did for him - for their country - never asking for a thing in return, but she doesn't let him. The kisses become messier, pushier, dropping until they are nowhere near his mouth. He finds himself rutting against her inner thigh, mindlessly questing for any friction he can get, as her teeth graze his throat. 

Her hands at his back claw alternately upwards, bold fingers winding roughly into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently until he has no choice but to let her pull his head back, exposing his neck further to the wet-warm pry of her lips. He only realises he's groaning when she draws back, eyes bright but cautious, placing a finger against his mouth. 

"We have to be quiet," she breathes unsteadily, but there is a note in her voice that makes him want to be anything but; a low, thrumming melody that makes his heart clench and his cock ache to be inside her. The memory of it nearly overtakes him, and he thinks of her, wet and soft and crying out for him. It's nearly his undoing when Lan Fan replaces her finger with her lips once more, her mouth urging his open until her tongue flicks against his. 

"Lan Fan..." he all but whimpers when she lets him breathe, because she's going to make him lose it just from this alone if she's not careful. Every movement she makes burns against him, every brush of her body on his simultaneously nothing and everything like what he wants. His hands begin a journey of their own devising, travelling over her back and lower, around, between her legs. Through the cotton of her clothing, he can feel little except the heat of her.

"Shh, my lord," she says, and it seems out of the blue to his ears until he remembers he called to her only moments ago, back when she wasn't rubbing herself insistently against his palm and he wasn't almost at breaking point, his cock uncomfortably hard against her backside. She leans back a little, letting out a huff of breath up through her hair; then, before he can complain, the weight on him lifts and he's left sitting, panting, barely able to comprehend the awful truth that she's no longer on him. 

As she kicks off her boots, he can tell she's scanning the surroundings just by the look in her eye; a faraway sort of gaze that tells him she's all feeling at that second, psyche reaching out to grasp at any and all threads that may prove troublesome. It's something he's seen her do a thousand and one times before, but now he finds himself praying, desperately, that his own senses are not so muddled that they are betraying him; that he is correct in his belief that they are alone, that there's nothing to stop him touching her until she breaks for him, that she'll come back any second and just kiss him, already. 

Ling waits, unmoving, barely daring to breathe. 

"Lan Fan?" he says again, uncertainly.

"There are too few guards up here," she says into the night, haltingly, as if she wished she hadn't noticed. "We really shouldn't be able to move around so easily undetected."

"Oh." Ling's considers this, though he is distracted somewhat by the sight of her silhouette in the moonlight. He swallows hard, forcing an airy, if lopsided, grin. "Well, don't worry about that. I have my finest guard look over the roofs every night. She's up here right now, actually."

He can't see her face, but he can't mistake the mollified smile in her tone as she carefully shrugs free of her pants. 

"I suppose we should make sure she doesn't catch us, then." 

She turns, eyes coal-fire dark and bright, a beautiful contradiction. A smile flutters briefly around her lips as she moves back to him, and heaven help him he almost laughs with relief when she takes the hand he offers her, allowing him to drag her down on him. She's wet when he finally touches her, wet against his legs and the tip of his cock, and he slips her shirt up and over her head before burying his face in her chest and just resting there for a few seconds. He can't help chuckling into her as she yanks his pants down awkwardly, an unexpected display of patience on his part set against a sudden lack of it on hers. It's Lan Fan who pushes for more, fingers working between them, slipping where she's almost too wet - he holds his breath as she pushes his cock against her, so tantalisingly close, hitching again when she finally drives herself down on him. 

He's glad of his position, then, pressed tight against her chest, because when she starts to rock her hips against him it becomes nearly impossible to keep his mouth shut. She wraps her arms around him, meticulous and tender, until the scent of her skin and insistent rise and fall of her hips is all he knows. He kisses her, clumsy lips bruising just above her bindings, unable to reach any further but needing to do something to distract himself from the rising pressure within him. She gasps, delighting him.

"Lan Fan," he forces himself to speak, though what comes out is just a series of ragged breaths on her collar bone. "Lan Fan, I'm - I need you to slow down."

She freezes, worried eyes searching his face. "My lord - ?"

"Let me touch you?"

" _Oh_ ," Lan Fan breathes, the palpable relief flooding through her body almost distracting him from his aim. She casts her eyes downwards, unsure, but leans back to allow him to slip a hand between them. The feel of her, damp and hot between his thumb and forefinger, combined with the sudden ability to see exactly where her body meets his is almost his second downfall of the night. He takes a deep, meditative breath - _not yet_ \- and looks up at her face again, sliding his fingers against her until he hits upon the pattern he found last time, the up-down push-pull that made her eyes roll. A little trial and error (too much pressure and she jerks against him, hissing slightly; too little and she twitches, near laughter, apparently tickled) and her body starts to sway as though she is being impelled to movement by the stroke of his fingertips.

It's all going so well until she says his name, an uncontrolled moan in his ear, not _my lord_ or any of his other honourifics, but _Ling_. She makes it sound like a prayer, and before he can stop himself his free hand is on the small of her back, holding her steady against his wildly bucking hips. His occupied hand nearly joins it, driven by a sudden desire to clutch her to him, but the moment he tries to withdraw Lan Fan stiffens, eyes opening to reveal wide, ink-black pupils.

"Don't stop," she says, suddenly forceful, pushing her body closer and effectively trapping his hand between them. "Please. _Please_ , Ling."

And so he doesn't, couldn't stop if he tried, but he's so close now; half praying for it to happen and half burning for it to last longer. She doesn't give him the choice, in the end. Her hips jerk faster, harder, bearing down on him in tight little thrusts that leave them both shuddering, and then when he can take it no more she kisses him and just like that he's tumbling over the edge, fingers gripped tight and her name on his lips. She doesn't leave him even when the twitching subsides, nor when he reels backwards on to the blanket, pulling her with him. His fingers trace wetly against her still as she eventually rolls sideways, limbs spilling in a tangle on to the blanket beside him. He turns into her, breathing heavily.

"Do you want me to keep going?"

Lan Fan nods her head vigorously, eyes half-closed, and so he forces himself onwards, though his wrist is aching and the warm glow of his own orgasm is a pleasant fog he doesn't really care to shake. She whimpers, and it sounds like "more", but he doesn't dare change the pattern of his fingers on her, not with the way her reaction escalates with every repetition, hips rising to meet his hand and pulse thrumming visibly at her throat. Her hands paw and flutter at him, face and chest and stomach, finally settling to grasp crushingly at his wrist. She moans again, louder now, and it makes him grin; leaning up, he places a finger to her parted lips.

"We need to be quiet, remember?" he whispers, just a little smugly, and kisses the corner of her mouth, allowing one last whimper loose before covering her lips with his own. Metal claws at him, perilously close to cutting off his circulation, and he finally gives in to the insistent way she's forcing herself against his fingers, slipping one from his free hand inside her. Lan Fan's whole body arcs in response, and she groans, placated, into his mouth. The sound acts as a balm to any remaining pain in his wrist, and he redoubles his efforts, a man possessed by nothing less than the desire to make her do _that_ , that noise right there, again and again and again. 

He drops his mouth from hers, lowering his head to place a kiss at the base of her throat, then lower still. Without warning Lan Fan releases his wrist, hand flying up to her mouth. There's a clink, and he looks up. 

"Lan Fan, don't - " he says, when he sees her, eyes closed and the metal of her wrist between her teeth. Her eyes flash open, the look in them not defiant but certainly not to be argued with.

"Keep going," she bites out against her automail and between harsh gasps for breath. Her insides clench against his fingers erratically."Keep going keep going Ling _please._ " 

Her other hand rises at his back, fingers wound tight in his hair, pushing him down. He drops a kiss against her bare shoulder, lingering to run his tongue along the curve of her collarbone, distracted by the way the goosebumps rise in response to him. Another thrust of his fingers, higher this time; another kiss, up where her pulse flickers in her throat. And then before he's even prepared, she comes, silent but unmistakeable; spasming on his fingers and throwing her head back, eyes squeezed tight shut, and suddenly he can't tell whether it's her heart or his own hammering in his ears. 

It can't be very long afterwards that Lan Fan exhales, heavy and ragged, and starts breathing again, but to Ling it may as well have been the entire night. He lets his fingers slip free and collapses at her side, all at once exhausted. It is Lan Fan who turns into his body now, as always the first to come back to herself, no matter how senseless he may have managed to make her. Her forehead is damp with sweat where it meets his.

"You should get some rest, young lord."

"Maybe," he agrees, running a lazy hand over her hip. "Maybe you should come with me."

Lan Fan says nothing, because they both know why she can't, but the thought of it is enough for him at the moment. He closes his eyes and feels her press a kiss to his forehead.

"One day this won't be a secret," he mutters sleepily, almost to himself. "One day they'll know the woman at my side and how she gave everything for her clan... and then they will understand why I care so deeply for her."

He feels rather than sees Lan Fan's blushes, so familiar are they to him, though she doesn't pull away. 

"Young lord..." she starts, gentle but serious. Ling opens his eyes, grinning apologetically, though he fears it is fooling neither of them. She drops her gaze, smiling softly in return. "You have always been good at getting what you want, my lord. Remember when we were young, and you were insistent on learning Amestrian, even though everyone told you it would be useless? And then, when they found a tutor for you, you weren't happy until they taught me, too?"

"I remember. And in the end, I was right, wasn't I?"

Lan Fan raises her chin, and the pride on her face almost burns him in its intensity. "You were, my lord." 

He reaches between them, bringing her automail to his lips in a kiss. "Then I shall be just as persistent this time."

~fin


End file.
